


It Started with a Dog

by Lil_Lycanthropy



Series: DWCAU (Dog Walking/College AU) [1]
Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: AU, College AU, Dog Walking AU, Dogs, Eating Disorder, Fainting, Gen, Suicide, animal injury, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Lycanthropy/pseuds/Lil_Lycanthropy
Summary: All Virgil wanted to do was walk the damn dog.





	1. Goddamnit Jeffrey

Virgil loved routine.

So when his roommate decided to overdose and it was too late to save him, Virgil did his best to distract himself by starting a new routine that would help both with coping and with the rent—dog walking.

He had been walking Jeffrey, a mastiff/great dane mix, for about three weeks. His owner, an older woman named Beth, loved Virgil because he “reminds me of my grandson! He dresses all dark like you, too.”

After she had taken a nasty fall down the stairs, she’d hired Virgil to take him for a walk every day. So for the twenty-third day in a row, Virgil stopped by 56 Arbor Lane and knocked on the door.

The loud barking of Jeffrey deafened Virgil, almost to the point where he couldn’t hear Beth’s usual words.

“Virgil! I know someone who’s happy to see you!”

Beth wheeled up in her chair, leg still in a cast.

Virgil clipped the leash on and waved goodbye, too tired to engage in conversation.

The two began walking their regular route down the road, and things were going fine...until Jeffrey saw another dog across the street.

The dog was a gorgeous golden retriever, and the stranger walking it had dark brown, closely cropped hair. He walked very stiffly, but Virgil was too busy trying to control Jeffrey to notice anything else.

Jeffrey ripped the leash from his hands, leaving a strong burning sensation as he ran into the street. While it wasn’t a very busy street, there was still enough traffic to make it dangerous for an on-the-loose dog, as Virgil quickly found out when a car slammed into Jeffrey.

All 210 pounds of dog was knocked onto the road as the car screeched to a halt. Virgil’s heart stopped and his vision tunnelled, and then he was running into the road.

Anxiety had taken over. He couldn’t _breathe,_ his heart was thumping out of his chest, and his body began to shake as each muscle tensed up. All Virgil could focus on was Jeffrey. 

The dog had gotten up, but was panting, blood trickling from wounds all on his right side. He dragged his leg behind him with a limp, and Virgil knew instantly it was broken.

_Dear God, what had he done?_

The anxiety, the fear, the pressure was too overwhelming. Thoughts of what he’d done zoomed past in a hurry, like the cars trying to avoid him. The permanent clamp around his chest tightened. _Jeffrey’s hurt Jeffrey’s hurt what have I done what do I do?_

Virgil’s anxiety reached its peak and he almost collapsed, until a pale pair of hands snapped their fingers in front of his face.

“Please, stop this and get off the road. Your safety is at risk. It’s an anxiety attack, right? You’re showing all the signs—trouble breathing, increased heart rate, and you look like you’re about to pass out. Don’t worry though, I have your dog; let’s get back to the sidewalk before we are both killed by an oncoming vehicle.”

The passerby talked a million words a second, as if there wasn’t enough time in the world to get all his information out. He kept adjusting his glasses, despite them being positioned perfectly on his face. He ushered Virgil off the road (without touching him, which Virgil was grateful for), Jeffrey close behind. He was whimpering softly, and looked about ready to keel over.

“Okay, to my knowledge, to get someone out of an anxiety attack, you have to get them to breathe. Could you please start doing that properly?”  


Virgil, still hyperventilating, shook his head.

“Well, how about a pattern? I read that breathing in, holding it, and breathing out for a certain amount of time shifts the body from a sympathetic state to a parasympathetic state.”

“A...what?”

“The sympathetic state would refer to what is commonly known as a ‘fight, fight, or freeze’ response, while the parasympathetic state is when the body is at rest and can therefore process information easier.”

“Oh...okay,” Virgil managed to wheeze out.

“The pattern is 4-7-8—breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight until your breathing is back at its normal functioning pace.”

Virgil tried it, and after a couple times, found he was able to think more clearly. He noticed the stranger had was holding Jeffrey’s leash, while said dog was laying on the ground, panting heavily.

“Shit, shit, _shit_. What am I going to do about Jeffrey? Fuck, he’s not—”

“You’re starting to panic again, so stopping that metaphorical train of thought is the best course of action for the moment. I have an acquaintance who’s a vet—well, vet-in-training—who can help. Your dog—Jeffrey?—certainly isn’t the first dog to get hit by a car, and since he can walk, albeit with a limp, it’s very likely he’ll recover. I can drive you to the emergency clinic my friend works at, if you’d like? My apartment is just a block away, and I have a car big enough for both of us and the dog.”

Virgil thought for a moment, then glanced back down at Jeffrey. A small pool of blood was staining the sidewalk—not a lot, considering the size of the dog, but enough to be worried.

He made a quick decision, and soon the two were walking together briskly towards the person’s apartment.

“What’s your name?” the person asked as they lugged the two dogs along.

“Virgil,” Virgil breathed out, too distracted to ask the other guy.

They soon barged into the apartment, dropping off the golden retriever.

“Home so soon, Lo?” a voice called out. “I think Lil needs a little more exercise than that.”

“There’s an emergency. I ran into—”  


Before he could finish the sentence, another guy burst into the room with a look of panic on his face.

“What happened? What emergency?”

Then he spotted Jeffrey, who was swaying on the spot, and Virgil, anxiously biting his lip enough to split it open. 

“Can you drive us to Patton’s clinic?”

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, the stranger’s roommate dropped them off at the emergency clinic. Virgil and the other person—who he still hadn’t learned the name of—heaved Jeffrey out of the car on a blanket, carrying him between them, stretcher-style.

They pushed through the doors to the emergency clinic, tears staining Virgil’s face once more as he glanced down at Jeffrey.

The attendant at the front desk immediately jumped up and helped them bring the dog into the nearest room and settle him on a table.

“What happened?” she asked, already listening to his heartbeat.

Logan stepped in as Virgil’s breathing sped up, starting to panic. “Virgil was walking the dog, and it ran across the road to see my dog, and got hit by a car. I’m no physician, but I believe there’s damage to the left pelvic and leg area, and a head wound on the same side, along with some abrasions on the ribs.”  


The attendant looked incredulously at him, before moving on. 

“I’ll get someone to look over him right away—”

“Could you get Patton to help oversee it? I promised Virgil here that Jeffrey would be in good hands with him.”

Still a little shocked, the attendant nodded and herded them out of the room.

Virgil slumped forward on one of the waiting room chairs, head in his hands. There was a friction burn across them, but he wasn’t too worried about it—he knew proper wound care. Slight relief spread through him because _at least the dog will be taken care of_ , but the anxiety still left him shaking.

He took another deep breath to steady himself, then looked over at the person who had done so much for someone he didn’t know, now sitting beside Virgil in the emergency vet clinic.

“What’s your name?”

The stranger, quickly becoming an acquaintance, looked surprised at being addressed, but quickly covered it up by pulling out a miniature rubiks cube and fiddling around with it.

“You can call me Logan.”


	2. Dr. Patton

Virgil and Logan sat in silence for about two minutes, and already Virgil’s anxiety was increasing.

“Relax,” Logan said without looking up from his cube. “Patton’s great with animals, and they probably already have someone or a team working on him. He’s in good hands.”

Virgil tried evening his breathing, rubbing the wounds on his hands.

Shortly, a man that looked about the same age as Logan popped out.

“Hey, I heard you came in with an emergency and asked for me, which is so _nice_. Thanks, Lo.”

“I asked that you work on him, not talk with us.”

“I know; just wanted to let you know he’s probably in for surgery on his leg, and will likely need to stay overnight for a bit while we check the head wound and the abrasions on his side.”

Virgil let out a quiet “Thank you,” before putting his head back in his aching hands.

After several minutes, Virgil suddenly shot up, eyes wide open and bags looking dark as ever.

“Oh shit. Listen, I gotta make a few calls to the other owners and...and Beth.”

“Beth?”  


“Jeffrey’s owner.”

Logan put his cube back in his pocket and adjusted his glasses—still positioned perfect as ever, as he pushed them up every minute or so—then tilted his head slightly. “I’m...confused. I was under the impression Jeffrey was your dog?”

“What? No, I do dog walking for four people; Jeffrey is one of the dogs. He belongs to Beth. But now I have to call the other three people to let them know I can’t do their dogs today, and I need to call Beth, fuck, she’s gonna be mad, I can’t—”

“Hold on, calm down. 4-7-8, remember? Try compartmentalization—focus on one thing first, storing the others away. Then, as some people say, you can cross that bridge when you get to it.”

Virgil shook his head. “I fucking suck at that. I have all this shit to do, and it piles up, and then I get overwhelmed, like now—”

“First of all, no need for cursing. Secondly, I could help you make the phone calls? I’m not very good in social situations, such as calling people, but if it will give you some mental reprieve, I’ll gladly do it.”  


Virgil wrung his hands. “I’ll see how it goes.”

The first call went okay. An older man who was just a gentle as Beth but with bad arthritis in his knees and a hyperactive shih tzu said he understood, he can find someone else for the next couple days or play fetch instead.

The second call went a little worse. An uptight lady by the name of Robyn said she wasn’t impressed, and he can continue only after Jeffrey was fully healed.

The third phone call was to Mr. O’Connley, a businessman with an Irish setter, and was by far the worst. If there was one moment Virgil didn’t want to relive, it was telling O’Connley that one of the dogs Virgil regularly walks had been hit by a car while on a walk with him.

“What the bloody hell do you mean you let a dog get hit by a car? There’s no feckin’ way I’m lettin’ you walk my Molly, you hear me?”

By the end of that call, Virgil had tears streaming down his face and was close to hyperventilating. Logan tried to coach him through some breathing, but he ignored him and dialled the last number.

“Hello?”

Virgil tried to take a deep breath. “Hi, Mrs. P. It’s Virgil.”

“Oh, is everything alright, dear? You sound dreadful.”

Virgil explained as best as he could through the tears that her dog had been hit by a car, and that he and the dog were both at the emergency clinic.

“Listen, I know you’re still paying for your leg, and it’s my fault, so I’ll cover the cost of the surgeries.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Thank you, Virgil. I still...trust you to walk him after he’s healed. I know he can be a handful.”

Cheeks wet, Virgil nodded, realized that Beth couldn’t hear that over the phone, and said, “Yeah. No problem.” 

He clicked end call.

* * *

A couple hours later, Patton emerged with a professional-looking clipboard in one hand, and a black kitten stuffed animal in the other.

“Okay, so, I have both good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

Virgil pursed his lips and began to shake. “Doesn’t matter. Whichever.”

“Well, Jeffrey made it through the surgery and will make a full recovery.”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief, and even Logan pushed up his glasses with a smile.

“So, we had to do some internal framework in the leg and hip, and we stitched up his head wound. The bad news is that since you don’t have insurance, the bill will be soaring, but we can work something out. But, since the surgery was over $5,000, you get this complementary black cat plushie which is super soft!”

“...I’m sorry, did you say over $5,000?”

Patton consulted his clipboard. “According to my professional calculations, it cost $6,348.59.”

The blood immediately drained from Virgil’s face. He went to stand to look over the clipboard and make sure Patton whoever-he-was wasn’t fucking around with him, but as soon as he left the chair, his legs gave out and blackness overtook him.

* * *

 “ —ake up. C’mon kiddo, wake up.”

Virgil’s head throbbed, and he groaned as his eyes flew open. His feet were elevated on a first aid box, and there were three people hovering around him.

“Good! You’re awake!” the one with the glasses and light brown hair said—Patton.

“...who? What?”

“You fainted, Virgil, and knocked your head off the chair. Liz and Patton aren’t worried about a concussion, though I do suspect you’ll have a bump and a headache for the next little while. Is fainting a common occurrence for you?” 

“Um...I guess. It’s happened a few times. Low blood pressure and stress and all that.”

Memories came rushing back, and he put his head back on the floor—only, it wasn’t the floor, it was something soft and squishy.

Virgil reached behind his head and pulled out the damn cat plushie from before.

“Why...why was this under my head?”

Patton looked a bit embarrassed, but still wore his trademark grin. “Well, we didn’t have a lot of pillows handy, and we didn’t want your head just lying on the cold hard ground.” Then he screeched out an, “ _Ohhhhhhhh!_ ” that sounded like a dying goat.

Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose at the loud sound and the Taylor Swift reference. “ _Please_ never do that again.”

* * *

 After discussing several financial plans, none of which were realistic and almost caused several near-panic attacks (if it wasn’t for Logan reminding him to breathe), Virgil felt a new sense of helplessness that he had never experienced. He was some broke college student, why the fuck had he offered to pay for two expensive surgeries and six sutures, along with debridement of a fairly large abrasion?

Finally, after shooting down the seventh suggestion, Patton said, “If you really can’t pay, there are other options.”

“What do you mean?”  


“Well, what’s your living situation like right now?”

Virgil paused. “My roommate, uh...moved out last month. I’ve been paying the full rent for a while now, and it’s really been not-so-good.”

“My roommate just moved out last week, and I’ve been looking for a new one! Now I’m not forcing you to do anything, but if—”

Suddenly, Logan chimed in. “Roman and I—”

“Who?" Virgil asked.

“First of all, _whom_. Secondly, my roommate you met earlier. Anyway, we were looking for some people to get together with and get a house—nothing huge, but enough for maybe four or five people.”

“And, if you don’t have to worry as much about the rent, it will be easier to pay off Jeffrey’s vet bills!”

After some more discussion and a phone call to Roman, they made the decision to try and find a house they could all live in.

Two weeks later, Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil all moved into 33 Anders Road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's chapter two! Follow my tumblr [@guav-writes](https://guav-writes.tumblr.com/) for updates, or follow my main [@lil-lycanthropy](http://lil-lycanthropy.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I plan on updating every Sunday and Wednesday, but we'll see how it goes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Coffee, Fidgets, and Bunnies

After they were all moved in, Virgil tried to start a new routine. Every day at 10:00 and 2:00, he would go to Beth’s house to help her with Jeffrey, who was healing pretty well. Along with some minor physiotherapy, he was on the mend.

Beth was completely healed, but was still worried about the fragility of her joints, so she kept Virgil walking Jeffrey every day.

Since Jeffrey was still healing, he only had one other client—the older man with the shih tzu. He would walk her usually after Jeffrey, then head to his other job.

One day, he was working at the local café—Enchanted Coffee—when he spotted two familiar faces.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here!” Roman said, giving a wave.

“I was aware this is where you were currently employed, but it is still surprising to see you dressed up like that,” said Logan, gesturing to Virgil’s coffee-brown apron with little trees and leaves all over it.

“Yeah, well, a uniform’s a uniform. It’s not too bad. So, is there anything I can get you?”  


Logan ordered a black coffee with one sugar, and then it was Roman’s turn.

“I’ll have a large café mocha with a pump of vanilla, whipped cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

“God, you’re so extra. What do you think this is, Starbucks?” Virgil said, making the drink anyway. “Anything else, Your Royal Highness?”  


“Hmm...Oh! And a blueberry scone warmed up with jam on the side.”

“You make me do so much work.”

Despite the banter, he was a little disappointed to see the two leave. But they made his day brighter, and a smile quirked at the corners of his lips for the rest of his shift.

* * *

 Virgil would rather hear the jingle-jangle of dog tags over the pitter-patter of little feet any day.

Lil did his usual greeting of running up to him, tail windmilling around, then running back to fetch a ball or a toy or one of Logan’s books and bringing it back.

“Hey, Lil! How’s it goin’, dude?” Virgil said as he knelt down and rubbed his head.

He nuzzled his head onto his lap then flipped onto his belly, ball slipping out of his mouth.

“How was your day?” Patton asked, appearing in front of him.

“Good, actually. Though, I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you guys decided to name a male dog ‘Lil’.”

Patton blushed. “It’s not short for Lily, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What’s it short for?”

“It’s...it’s short for ‘Little Patton’. You can blame Ro for that one.”

Virgil tried to keep a straight face, but it all came bursting out and he began laughing hard enough to double over on the floor and the dog to circle him, thinking something was wrong.

“Hey, don’t laugh! It’s embarrassing enough!”  


Virgil continued chuckling as he made his way up the stairs and pulled out his laptop.

He had a quiz that he needed to do online which would count for 10% of his final grade. Minor quiz. No big deal.

Except for the anxiety that decided to kick in. He was stressing, big time, enough that he couldn’t focus on the questions on the screen in front of him. His vision blurred, but he quickly wiped away the tears. His legs shook anxiously on his bed as he tried to concentrate, hands flying over the keyboard but not touching anything. He eventually began picking at his cuticles without realizing it, his nervous energy almost overtaking him.

He was so lost in his mind he didn’t realize that Logan had been watching him silently for almost three minutes.

“What are you doing?”

“Jesus fuck Logan!” Virgil gasped out. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“I apologize. I just noticed you appeared a little unsettled. I think it would be beneficial to get you a fidget device, as you have been anxiously fiddling with your hands for at least four minutes straight.”

“If you get me a fucking fidget spinner, I’m gonna fucking fidget shove it up your ass.”

“Wow, that was rude. Anyway, there are plenty of other things besides the fidget spinners that you could use.”

Eventually, Virgil acquiesced and handed Logan the laptop. He quickly pulled up Amazon and typed in “fidget”.

Amidst the spinners, there was a surprising amount of variety.

“Stretch toys?”

“No.”

“Fidget spinner with only two prongs rather than three?”

“Nope.”

“Clicker?”

“That would be annoying.”

“Spinner ring?”

“Are you trying to propose to me?”

“What?” Logan said, furrowing his brow, then adjusting his glasses.

“Never mind.”

In the end, they bought two fidget cubes and a spinner ring. Virgil finished his quiz, then got ready for bed.

Insomnia was there waiting for him.

There are many reasons why a person can’t sleep—in Virgil’s case, it was the growling of his stomach and the pain that followed as it clamped down on nothing.

Then there were the thoughts racing through his head.

Paying the rent, Brian overdosing, paying the vet bill, his work schedule, and food, food, food...

His stress reached a point where he couldn’t stay still in his bed. He got up and browsed on his laptop for a couple hours, and before he knew it, it was 4 a.m. and he was cramping up bad enough that he finally decided to get a late night snack.

As he went downstairs, a voice pierced the silence despite being whispered.

“Virge, kiddo, what’re you doing up?”

He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed, Pat.”

Patton scrutinized him silently for a moment, then said, “Do you wanna pet my bunny for a bit?”

Though he didn’t really want to, he nodded his head and followed Patton to the garage.

Patton opened the door as quietly as he could, ushered Virgil inside, then flicked on the light. Virgil hadn’t paid much attention when they were moving in, but it appeared that half the garage was storage, and half was the ultimate playpen for a small black fluffball.

It was asleep on a bed full of nesting material, but opened its eyes and got up as soon as they made their way towards it. 

“Her name’s Elfphie. She loves to snuggle.”

Patton explained more about the little rabbit, which was actually quite sizeable. Apparently she was a lionhead rabbit named after the wicked witch from _Wicked_ because she looked like a misfit when Patton got her—all black compared to her brown and white siblings. 

As Patton talked, the nausea and discomfort increased. Virgil knew he needed to eat something, or he was going to pass out soon.

“Do you have anything you can do to help you fall asleep?” Patton said suddenly.  


“No, Pat, just let it be—”

“We could cuddle—”

_“No!”_ Virgil yelled out more forcefully, heart rate picking up. He was getting snappy, both from hunger, tiredness, and pain.

“Alright, sorry, just calm down. I can help—”

“I don’t _need_ your help,” Virgil spat out, storming out of the garage and off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Virgil curled up in his bed. He felt bad for lashing out, but he was in too much pain to feel as guilty as he probably should’ve. His head hurt, his legs hurt, his stomach hurt, and there was nothing to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed it! I should be updating on Wednesday, but it might be a bit late (because I'm a huge procrastinator).
> 
> As usual, follow my tumblr(s) for updates!


	4. Thump Thump Thump

The next day, Virgil awoke to a pounding at his head. He still hadn’t eaten in a while, and felt too weak to move.

Glancing over at the clock, he realized it was 9:45. If he didn’t get up, he was going to be late to see Jeffrey.

Groaning, he got out of bed and went to the stairs.

That’s when things went wrong.

He must’ve blacked out for a second, because the next thing he knew, he was tumbling down the stairs. He bounced off the railing, and he finally landed at the bottom—right on top of his arm.

It immediately began to swell, and he cradled it to his chest, still not fully processing what had happened.

“Shit, Virge, what the fuck was that?"

Roman rushed into the room, only to see Virgil in a heap on the floor at the base of the stairs, arm curled protectively into his chest.

Crouching down, Roman slowly sat him up so his head was resting against the wall. Virgil seemed completely perplexed.

“What the hell...why are we on the floor?”

“You fell down the stairs.”

“What kinda bullshit...”

Virgil tilted his head back, overwhelmed with nausea. He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

Roman watched him, a concerned look taking over his expression. Virgil was panting lightly and had a thin sheen of sweat across his brow. He was becoming unnervingly pale, and his arm was still clutched to his chest.

“You really don’t look so hot right now,” Roman said, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Thanks,” Virgil replied, eyes still closed.

Virgil was trying so hard, _so hard_ to stay awake and make everything seem okay, but he just couldn’t get his bearings. He was tired, and dizzy, and his whole body hurt—especially his arm. Even with a hoodie on, he could feel how sore it was and could only imagine how bad it looked.

But he didn’t want to worry Roman. 

Despite only knowing each other for about two weeks, Virgil didn’t want any of the group to get too attached. Worry leads to concern, concern leads to caring, and then those feelings are supposed to be reciprocated. Virgil didn’t have the mental stamina to care for people—it was easier not to get attached.

Like what had happened with Brian.

* * *

_It had started out slowly enough._

_A compliment here, a small touch there that left Virgil’s stomach fluttering with disgusting little butterflies. He never thought of himself as romantic, but the way Brian made him feel...well, it was only a matter of time before “going out for coffee” became “going out for a coffee_ date _”._

_The only reason it really worked was because they were both cynical as hell._

_“How’s your day been?”_

_“Shitty. You?”  
_

_“Shitty, as usual.”_

_Then they’d laugh and know that at the end of the day, they’d have each other to talk, vent, or complain to._

_But their pessimism became their downfall._

* * *

 Roman was panicking. 

Virgil had stopped responding and seemed lost in his own head. He was obviously not doing well, so Roman did the only thing he could think of.

“I’m calling Logan."

* * *

 Logan arrived about twenty minutes later.

“Would someone care to explain why I had to turn around back when I was halfway to the science centre?”  


It was then that he spotted Virgil, still slumped on the floor with a worried Roman hovering over him.

“Oh, shit. What happened?” he said, rushing over and kneeling down.

“He fell down the stairs.”

Logan looked back, noting how pale and weak Virgil looked, appearing to be almost completely dissociated from the entire situation.

“Are you sure that’s all that happened? Because his symptoms are very troubling.”

Roman just shrugged in response.

“Okay, well...can you move him onto the couch?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Do you need any help?” Logan asked hesitantly.

Roman glanced at him. “It’s okay, Lo. You don’t have to help me pick him up. I know touch isn’t your thing.”

He hefted one of Virgil’s arms onto his shoulder, and Virgil cried out, pulling away and falling back on the floor. Roman decided just to scoop him up, carrying him as gently as he could to the couch before laying him down.

“Is he unconscious?” Logan asked.

Virgil’s eyes fluttered open at the question, but he still looked dazed.

“Alright, let’s elevate his feet to increase blood flow to the head. Roman, would you go get a cool cloth and a blanket, along with some juice, please?”

Spotting the way Virgil grimaced as he held his arm, he decided one more thing was necessary.

“Can you get an ace bandage, too?”

Roman scampered away, trying to grab all the items Logan had asked for. Logan himself worked on placing two pillows beneath Virgil’s feet and removing the one behind his head. 

A few minutes later, Roman came back into the room, his arms full of various supplies. Together, they laid the blanket on Virgil, who had begun to shiver, and wiped away the sweat on his forehead.

“Virgil?”  


No response.

“Virge, can you hear me?”

His eyes flickered in Logan’s general direction.

“Do you need us to call 911?”

A slight shake of the head and a panicked look said _no_.

“Alright, well, can you at least drink this? It’s...fruit punch? A little high in sugar, but I think you fell because your blood sugar is too low anyway. Please, drink at least half of it.”

Virgil shakily held out a hand, but Roman lifted the straw to his lips.

He drank gratefully, downing the whole thing. Some of the colour returned to his face, so he didn’t look quite so much like death.

“May I see your arm?”  
  
Virgil immediately froze. “Why?” he asked shakily, a look of trepidation on his face.

“It appears injured. May I take a look?”

Reluctantly, Virgil took his left arm out from under the blanket and held it out for Logan to inspect.   


Logan rolled up the sleeve carefully, then sucked in a breath at the sight.

The limb was already swollen and purple, from the knobby bone of Virgil’s wrist and going down about three inches. Virgil was staring straight up at the ceiling, completely ignoring the whole situation.

“Roman, I think we need...need some ice.”

Roman ran to the kitchen and git back in record time with a bag of ice swaddled in a dish towel. 

The two gingerly wrapped Virgil’s wrist while he stared off into space. 

Eventually, Logan decided enough was enough.

“Virgil, look at me.”

Once again, no response.

“Virgil, it appears you are dissociating, so I will attempt to bring you out of your state. Do you know your name?”

“...V-Virgil.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“...House.”

“Do you know who we are?”  


“Logan...and Roman,” he said, looking around.

Logan nodded. “Would you care to tell us what’s really going on?”

Virgil tensed. “W-what do you mean?”

“Well, you were showing some symptoms not common for someone who only fell down the stairs. Your blood sugar and blood pressure are low, if your colouring and fainting spell are any indication; you were very discombobulated, which would be expected if you had a head injury, but your head shows no sign of having any sensitivity; lastly, you completely dissociated, so unless falling was a trigger, something big is going on that we don’t know about yet.”

Virgil sighed. “Alright, fuck. I have an...an eating disorder, happy?”  


Roman looked at Logan, stunned, but Logan had already deduced the answer was somewhere along those lines. The way he hadn’t really seen Virgil eat, how that boy was just a bag of bones...

He made a quick decision and pulled out his phone.

“I’m calling Patton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late! Midterms are coming up, so I plan on updating every Sunday from now on!


	5. Not a Walk in the Park

Fifteen minutes later, Patton burst through the door at top speed, Lil trotting up behind him.

“What’s wrong? Is everyone alright?” 

The words tumbled out of his mouth at such a rapid pace it was almost hard to understand.

Lil raced up to Virgil, who was still laying down on the couch. He licked his face and then began nuzzling his hand, which Virgil weakly lifted to pet him.

“Well, as you can tell, Virgil’s not doing so well,” Logan said.

“Fuck off, L-logan.”

“Are you shivering?” Roman asked. “Because, dude, it’s like, July.”

Virgil sighed. “I st-stutter when I’m a-anxious. So fuck off. And yeah, I’m cold. It kinda goes with the eating thing.”

Patton looked confused. “What ‘eating thing’?”

Everyone hesitated.

“He...well, he told us he has an eating disorder,” Logan said slowly.

Much to Virgil’s dismay, they continued to explain what had happened. When they were finished, Patton looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, kiddo.”

“I don’t want your goddamn pity.”

“We can help you.”

“I don’t want that either.”

The other three all looked at a loss for words.

“Listen—I know it’s fucked up. But _I’m_ fucked up. This is just something I have to deal with, and have been dealing with for a long time—”

“How long?” Logan piped up.

“What?”  


“How long has this been going on?”

Virgil hesitated. “About three years,” he finally said.

Everyone looked shocked at his revelation. Patton actually clasped his hand over his mouth, which did nothing to cover up the harsh gasp that escaped.

Logan finally spoke.

“You’ve been dealing with this by yourself for _three years?”_

“Well—for the most part, I guess. Brian, my boyf—my roommate,” Virgil stuttered out, hoping no one would notice his slip up. “He found out. Tried to help in his own way, but I just brought him down with me. He had his own issues. I don’t want to do that to you guys.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Patton said, a little teary-eyed. “But we want to help.”

“I don’t need it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to do my job.”

He tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness had him nearly falling over again if not for a strong pair of arms that suddenly wrapped around him.

“Don’t touch me!” Virgil screamed out, trying to escape the warm hands that surrounded his waist.

Roman lightly dropped him on the couch then backed away, hands up in surrender.

Panting with his head between his legs, Virgil tried to calm his rapid heart. 

Once his body was somewhat more under his control, he tried to stand up once again, propping himself on his good arm. Roman looked prepared to jump in at any moment.

Eventually, Virgil stood up on his own, arm still wrapped in ice. He unwrapped it and held out the dripping towel, hoping someone would take it from his trembling hands.

Exactly twelve breaths later, Logan realized what Virgil wanted and grabbed the bundle, then instantly dropped it on the floor like it burned him.

“What the fuck, Lo?”  


“Sorry, it’s, um—the texture. Wet towel. I can’t touch it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just a bad texture. I’m sorry, I’ll explain later. Roman, could you please pick it up and dispose of it?” 

Logan fixed his glasses, rubbing the rims. It appeared to calm him down a bit, but he still looked unsettled from touching the damp towel.

“Before you go walk the dogs, kiddo, could you please do two things?”

Once again sighing, Virgil spat out, “What?”

“First, let me check out and wrap your arm. I want to make sure it’s not broken or anything. And two, please eat something. I don’t want you passing out when no one’s there to help.”

Virgil reluctantly let him approach with the ace bandage and held out his arm.

Patton studied it intensely, gently moving it and asking Virgil to do various things to make sure it wasn’t broken.

“Well, I think it’s just a bad sprain. I’ll wrap it in this for now,” he said, holding up the ace bandage. “And I’ll pick up an actual splint from the pharmacy sometime today for you.”

He then proceeded to wrap Virgil’s wrist with careful and practiced hands. It was still painful, but Patton gave him a small smile when he was finished that left a lump in his throat. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Now eat something. Please. Anything.”

Roman came back from the kitchen, carrying a plate of cheese, crackers, cereals, some fruit, and more. “Eat at least one thing before you go.”

With some protesting, Virgil finally agreed to eat a banana, then left to do his job.

* * *

Virgil’s feelings intensified as he walked to Beth’s house. Mostly, anger made itself evident in the way he clenched his jaw and balled his fists.

He tried to control himself before getting to the house, counting his breaths as Logan instructed and relaxing his ever cold, ever shaky hands, but he was still tense enough that Beth immediately asked him what was wrong when he arrived at the door.

“Nothing, Mrs. P. I’m fine.”

And so he took Jeffrey for a walk.

He picked up the shih tzu about a quarter of the way into his walk. He continued on, his thoughts swirling as his feet thumped on the sidewalk.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? Are you that much of an attention seeker? They didn’t need to know. You could’ve made up a lie about fainting spells or some shit. Now you’re just gonna bring them down. It’s like Brian all over again._

Virgil faltered when his mind went to Brian. Such a short time actually together, but it was the best three months of his life.

Then Brian had to go and end it all.

_No, don’t blame Brian. It’s not his fault. He just couldn’t cope with life. He couldn’t cope with_ you. 

Virgil was close to tears now, but he finished up the walk and dropped the dogs back off. He didn’t have a shift scheduled for today, so he headed back home.

It would be a lie if he said he wasn’t a little anxious—or a lot.

Now they knew he was a freak. Who would want to share their home with someone who was always passing out and couldn’t even eat properly.

When he got back, he quickly made his way to his room. He grabbed his backpack and began packing—clothes, toiletries, some money, his laptop. 

In case they decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. 

In case they decided they didn’t want him living with them. 

In case they kicked him out.

Just as he was about to leave his room, he spotted the cat stuffed animal Patton had given him at the vet’s. It was sitting on his dresser, seemingly staring at him.

He shoved it in his bag, then made his way out.

The anxiety kicked in just as he was at the top of the stairs, bag slung over his shoulder. At least he didn’t pass out this time, but he felt close to it, and it wasn’t because of not eating.

It was time for an interesting conversation with the three people that gazed up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me tooth and nail to write, but I hope y'all enjoy!


	6. Bless Dogs

Virgil froze at the top of the stairs. He was prepared for them to start yelling at him, or interrogating, or anything.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Logan to calmly ask him to come downstairs.

He slunk down the stairs (without falling this time), backpack hidden behind him. He laid it carefully on the floor behind the couch, hoping no one noticed it. Unlikely, but it was all he had in case things went sour.

“Virgil, we just want to talk about a few things. Please, sit down,” Logan said.

“I really, really don’t want to do that right now.”

“Virgil, please,” said Patton, face red and eyes puffy as if he had been crying.

Huffing to hide his own tears, Virgil decided to perch on the edge of the couch. “There. Happy?” he said in as steady a voice as he could muster.

None of them looked convinced, but Logan started talking nonetheless.

“Well, we’re assuming you’re going to shoot down the idea of going to the doctor’s or seeing a therapist, correct?”

“Got that fucking right.”

“And dealing with it on your own clearly isn’t working, as you are showing signs of malnutrition, which will greatly impact your overall health over time."

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I’m alive, I only pass out sometimes, and I don’t have any other problems, so what is the issue?”

Roman spoke up. “No offence, but you are literally a walking skeleton.”

“Technically, all of us are ‘literally’ walking skeletons; I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

Roman glared at Logan before letting the matter drop. “What I’m trying to say is you’re just skin and bones. I could probably lift you with one arm. And, y’know, that’s not very fucking healthy.”

Virgil scoffed. “I still don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do about it. You can’t force me to eat if I really don’t want to.”

“We’re not going to force you to eat, but maybe we can help curb some of your...abysmal habits. First of all, we’re getting rid of the scale. I don’t even want to know how much you weigh, and it probably isn’t very beneficial to your mental health either to keep checking. Don’t deny it—we all know you do it several times a day. I’ll keep the scale in my room, or, if that proves too tempting, we can get rid of it altogether,” Logan said.

“You can’t—”  


“We can and we will, edgelord. I second that idea,” Roman said, nodding along to some imaginary beat.

“Pat? Don’t let them do this; it’’s bullshit.”

“Sorry, Virge. But someone has to look out for you, and since you’re not doing it yourself, we’ll take up that role.” 

“I also advise you make a meal plan and stick to it. We can help you come up with it or make the food if that’s a problem. Patton’s okay in the kitchen, and Roman can be...well, creative. If it’s an issue with your stomach, we’ll try a simple diet, nutrition shakes, and some multivitamins until you can work your way up to full meals.”

Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The people he had come to (mostly) trust were turning on him, treating him like a child who couldn’t care for himself.

He tried to hold back his tears, but they stung as they slid down his cheeks, face going red from the humility of it all. He hid in his sweater, staring angrily at the floor.

Patton was the first to notice the change in Virgil’s mood, the first to realize the hot tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, kiddo—”  
  
“Don’t call me that!” Virgil exploded. He leapt to his feet, more tears making their way down his face. “I’m not a kid! You can’t treat me like a four-year old just because you don’t agree with what I do to my own body! I’m not a child, I’m only a few years younger than you guys!” 

“Yes, but you can severely damage your body if you continue this behaviour—”

“I know what I’m doing to myself, and did you ever think for a moment that maybe it’s _intentional?_ That maybe I don’t give a shit if I live or die? _”_

Logan looked appropriately horrified with his statement and instantly shut up.

“Please, Drama Queen, just sit down.”

Virgil brought a hand up to his forehead, where a splitting headache was already starting to form. “Stop with the fucking names already. Just stop.”

He was losing his patience. Things were becoming too much, too much, too much...

Suddenly, a wet nose nuzzled its way into the hand at Virgil’s side. It stung a bit, still tender from the events of this morning, and he opened his eyes, meeting Lil’s warm brown ones. He nudged Virgil’s hand again.

Virgil sat down on the couch, all the fight suddenly leaving his body. He hated to admit it, but he was _exhausted._ Every single day was a struggle, and he was tired of struggling.

Trying to collect his though, he continued petting the dog’s soft fur, focusing intently on the strands going through his fingers and the golden shine reflecting from the lamp. 

The conversation continued over him, but he tuned it out, lost in his own world. The fur was soft between his fingers, drawing him into a trance. He was floating, away, away from here, away from all his worries and concerns...

“Virge?”  


Virgil opened his eyes, not realizing they had shut. He looked up at Patton.

“Would you care to join us for lunch?” Roman asked. 

“Just a small one,” Patton added hastily.

Virgil pushed Lil away.

“Please. Just have something. You still haven’t eaten nearly an adequate amount of food today.”

Virgil’s panic and anger flared back to life. “I don’t want anything.”

Logan rested his head in his hands, exasperated with the youngest. Patton looked about ready to cry with how Virgil, hastily wiping back tears so the others wouldn’t notice.

_A bit late for that, Pat._

“C’mon, just something small,” Roman said.

“Stop treating me like I’m a kid.”  


“Then stop acting like it!”

Virgil stood up, then instantly regretted it as he stumbled forward, world going black for half a second. He woke up just as Roman caught him in his arms, flinching away violently.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he gasped out, straightening his legs and pushing Roman away.

Roman let go but kept his arms up in case Virgil fell again. “We just want to help—”

“I don’t need your fucking help!” Virgil spat out. He swooped down behind the couch, grabbing his backpack and flinging it onto his back. He sprinted as fast as he could to the door.

“Roman, grab him!” Logan shouted when he realized Virgil’s plan.

But Virgil was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post a day early because I've kept y'all waiting so long (sorry!!!!!)


	7. Running

Running.

Running.

His lungs felt as if they were about to burst, but he couldn’t stop _running_.

Each step reminded Virgil of how everything went wrong, wrong, wrong, each heartbeat telling him of his failures.

_Your own boyfriend couldn’t put up with you._

Thump.

_You let an innocent animal in your care get hurt._

Thump.

_You can’t even eat right._

Thump.

_You’re just a burden on everyone you meet._

Thump.

Virgil kept running until he was gasping for breath, until each step physically pained him, until blood rushed around his body at manic speeds. 

He was in the city now, surrounded by too many people, too crowded, all staring at him, judging him...

Virge made it a few more steps before collapsing in a nearby alleyway, mostly out of sight of the general public.

It was in that alley that he finally broke down.

Great sobs left his body, no matter how hard he tried to stifle them. His backpack flopped down uselessly at his side, one arm numb from the exertion of carrying it and the other throbbing from falling down the stairs.

He tilted his head back, trying to control his breathing. Only one thing truly helped him when he was like this...

_Music._

Shakily pulling out his headphones, Virgil put on the first album that he could see. The opening note ofWelcome to the Black Parade started to play, and he quickly shut it off. He put on the next song, sitting back when _The Kill_ by Thirty Seconds to Mars came on. Just enough angst to take the edge off without causing too much emotional turmoil.

He was vaguely aware of his phone ringing, but he put it on silent and focused on the music.

Virgil continued to count his breaths, the way Logan had told him to, but thinking back on the squad made him falter. He had left them alone, he was in an unsteady frame of mind, and he only had a few of his personal belongings.

They were probably getting rid of all his stuff right now. He was just too much trouble.

The thought made him panic even more.

Suddenly, something nudged his own black shoes. Worried of it being a rat or oversized cockroach, he drew back his legs so they were curled into him.

Looking up, he realized it was, in fact, a regular human—well, with purple hair.

“Hey dude, you okay? I saw your feet sticking out behind the dumpster and I was really hoping you weren’t a dead body; I just wanted to make sure everything was good?’

Virgil just stared at him, too tongue-tied to speak—which, of course, made his anxiety flare up even more.

It was like there was a rock lodged in his throat that made it impossible to breathe or talk. His eyes widened when he realized he couldn’t get any air, and he looked up at the stranger in a panic.

“Whoa, relax, let’s chill out here for a bit,” he said, noticing Virgil’s fear and crouching down. “Deep breaths, buddy. I can count for you if you need.”

But Virgil couldn’t _breathe_.

The only thing to do in that situation was to purposefully hold his breath—then he at least had some control. He clenched his chest muscles and felt the pressure building up before finally, _finally_ , a shaky gasp escaped his mouth.

He continued his unsteady breathing, but at least he was getting some air now. After a while, he realize he was subconsciously syncing his breathing with the guy’s counting...

_In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four._ Repeat.

They continued on for a couple more minutes until Virgil was feeling a lot more levelheaded. When he finally collected his thoughts and was breathing properly, the stranger asked, “So, who’re you?”  


It took him a moment to find his words. “Virgil. You?”

“Thomas. Hey, listen, is there anyone I can call? To maybe pick you up or something? I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries here, but I don’t feel good leaving you on your own right now.”

Virgil took a deep breath and gave Thomas Patton’s number.

* * *

After almost an hour of searching, Patton, Roman, and Logan all met back up at the house.

“Did any of you hear anything?” Logan asked, trying to stay calm. They had only just _lost the youngest and most emotionally vulnerable of the group to run away and fend for himself while in an unstable state of mind_.

“Nothing,” Roman said.

“No, he wouldn’t answer his phone,” added Patton.

Desperately trying to come up with a plan, he furiously adjusted his glasses and tapped the frames.

“You good, Lo?” Patton asked, concerned.

“Yes, just thinking of possible solutions.”

He was interrupted by the shrill ringtone coming from Patton’s phone.

“Hmm, that’s weird. I don’t recognize the number.”

“Pick it up. It could be the edgiest of them all.”  


“Roman!”

“Just pick it up, Patton,” Logan said.

Patton clicked _Accept Call_.

“Hello?...yeah...you found him? Where?...Really? That’s odd...Yeah, he is kinda an odd duck. Anyway, either me or my friends will pick him up in a few. Thanks. Take care. Bye.”

“Well?” said Logan, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Someone found him in an alleyway. He’s a bit shaken up, but otherwise fine. Ro, my car’s in the shop, and you’re blocking Logan’s. Do you want to go pick him up and bring him back?”

Roman looked a little shocked at the idea. “Are you sure I’m the best person to do that? Finding Emo kinda hates me, I think.”  


“No he doesn’t! I’m sure it’ll be fine. I just think too many of us will crowd him right now, and you’re the only one with an accessible car. Please.”

Roman sighed. “Fine.”

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Roman pulled up to the library parking lot and got out of the car. Apparently, Virgil had decided that he wanted to be in the centre of downtown, right in the heart of the bustling city.

Traffic was hell.

While the crowds didn’t phase Roman much, he grew even more worried about Virgil—not that he’d ever admit that. But from what he know, Virgil’s anxiety was especially heightened when he was around a lot of people.

After some searching, he spotted the alley that Patton had mentioned beside the convenience store.

Along one side—nothing.

Heart sinking, he tried the other alleyway. He was greeted by a familiar face with a shock of purple hair.

“Thomas?”  


“Roman!”

Thomas quickly stood up from where he was perched, then rushed over and pulled Roman into a hug.

“Hey, man, long time no see!”

It was then Roman noticed Virgil curled up on the ground. “Jeez, what happened?”

“None of your business.”

“Virge...”

It was almost heartbreaking to see the younger’s walls go up, trying to shut everything out. He didn’t appear to be in the middle of any kind of attack, but he was definitely on the defensive. He balled his one fist (the other still wrapped in the flimsy ace bandage), but he carefully tried to relax it after a few seconds of tension. “So, uh, how do you know each other?”

“We’re both majoring in theatre. And listen,” Roman tried again, trying to stay calm. “We’re not mad. We just want to talk. Please, come bak to the house. I’ll even drive you.”

Virgil looked up at him, bangs almost obscuring his deep russet eyes. Deflating, he finally stood up and walked with Roman to the car.

After ten steps, Virgil turned around. “Thomas?”

Thomas looked back, raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks for not leaving me alone to panic in an alley for several hours.”

Thomas grinned, a little apprehensive, but waved and they all went their separate ways.

The silent ride home nearly gave Virgil another panic attack, thinking of everything he’d done wrong today and _dear lord something bad is gonna happen_ , but he knew he had to go face whatever was waiting for him.

He had no other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finale next week! Also, happy holidays everyone!


	8. Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to publish early as a lil Christmas gift! Hope y'all enjoy!

When they arrived home, Roman turned off the car but made no move to get out. Virgil counted in his head, waiting for the explosion.

It took until 213 before Roman said anything.

“Seriously, we’re not mad,” he tried to assure Virgil. “We just need to talk about this. It’s something that needs to be addressed, and I think you know that.”

Roman unlocked the car and got out, and Virgil followed shortly after.

When they went inside, Virgil was greeted by a flash of golden fur and a wet tongue. Lil pounced on him, almost knocking him over. He was really glad he didn’t, as he probably would’ve fallen on his bad arm with his luck. He crouched down and began rubbing Lil’s ears.

Lil managed to make him drop his backpack, spilling half of its contents across the floor. At the top of the meagre pile was the stuffed cat. Virgil blushed and hastily shoved it back in his bag, hoping no one saw it, but realized it was futile as he looked up and saw all three faces of the squad staring down at him.

Virgil glared down at the floor immediately, avoiding everyone’s gaze. He continued petting Lil, but it didn’t do much to soothe his anxiety.

Waiting for the inevitable would only make hi feel worse, so he stopped petting Lil and went to sit on the recliner.

No one talked. The awkward silence dragged on for a few moments until Virgil finally decided he needed to be the one to break it.

“I’m sorry...for running away. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want you treating me like a kid, but I ran away instead of dealing with my shit like a child. So, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Patton said. “We’re just glad you’re safe.”

“We handled the situation incorrectly, I believe,” added Logan.

“Yeah, We should be apologizing for overwhelming you and not allowing you to have any input on something that primarily affects you,” Roman finished.

Virgil felt like an outsider once again. They were all so in tune with each other, which could only come from years of interaction. And Virgil had just barged in on their lives with his own issues.

He hurriedly wiped away the tears that came to his eyes, hoping no more would fall. They already thought he was weak enough.

So he held everything back, and it took all his willpower, but he would not cry in front of them. He couldn’t afford to.

“We were wondering,” Logan began, “if you would help us make a recovery plan that you could stick to.”

“I mean, I get that it’s stupid, guys...”

“You stop that! You’re not the only one with issues. We can help you cope.”

“What do you mean? What shit are you dealing with?”  


“Patton, you don’t have to share,” Logan said, furrowing his brows.

“No, we sorta forced him to tell us something important, it’s only fair we tell him something that affects us, too. Trust is a two-way street, eh?”

Virgil nodded, curiosity piqued.

“Well, when I was five, I was in a car crash. I have some PTSD from that. Both my parents died.” Patton said it calmly, but his eyes looked shattered, so Virgil knew it had taken a lot out of him.

“Man, that’s shitty. Sorry about your parents,” Virgil said.  


“It’s fine. I learned to deal with it, and now I have two moms that took excellent care of me, enough that I have kids of my own!”

“Kids?”

“Yep! You guys! My own little family, if I do say so myself. Logan, anything you can share?”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I don’t really have any trauma. However, I am prone to sensory overload, which is not very...ah, fun.”

Virgil knit his eyebrows. “Sensor overload?”  


“When you get to overwhelmed from sensory input. I have some noise-cancelling headphones for when it gets bad, and I have certain triggers, but, well, the list is long and tedious.”

The next time Virgil spoke, it was barely a whisper. “I think I get that too. With my anxiety.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. It’s very common with anxiety and for people on the autism spectrum.”

“I take it you don’t have anxiety.”

“Not directly, no. I’m on the spectrum.”

Logan adjusted his glasses again, rubbing the sides with his fingers.

“Is that why you’re always fixing your glasses, even though they’re pretty much perfectly positioned the majority of the time?” Virgil said.

“Yep. It’s a stim.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Virgil didn’t really know what a ‘stim’ was, but they’d probably get into it later. If there’s one thing Logan loved, it was educating people.

“My turn, I guess,” Roman said. “Here goes: I was in therapy for...two? Yeah, two years after my parents were divorced. It’s honestly not that bad if you ever wanted to try it. I mean, it helped me, but I get if you don’t want to.”

“...I think I’d try it, maybe.”

And so they came up with a recovery plan for Virgil.

* * *

 “So you’ll try to eat at least every day, preferably more than once,” Logan said.

“Sure, I’ll try.”

“And we’ll take away the scale so it doesn’t trigger you,” Roman added.  


“...Fine.”

“And lastly, you’ll try to go to these group sessions at least twice a month,” Patton said, the familiar twinkle returning to his eye.

“I guess, if you think they’ll help.”

“I think they will. And we want you to get better, V. I know we’ve only known you for a short while, but I know I speak for the whole group when I say we love you and care very much about your well-being,” Patton said

That was not what he was expecting—none of it was. Despite Roman’s reassurances, when he came out of that car an hour ago, he expected yelling, throwing things, maybe getting kicked out. 

He wasn’t expecting them to love him.

Tears traced their way down his cheeks, and Patton immediately took it wrong. “Oh, hon, are you okay?” 

Virgil continued to let the tears fall, but he put on a smile anyway. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good.”

“Can I hug you? Please?”

With a teary nod, Virgil stood up and allowed Patton to wrap his arms around him.

They were soft and comforting, wrapping around him completely. Patton rested his forehead against Virgil’s, syncing his calm breathing with Virgil’s shaky breaths. It was heavenly, his body relaxing into the touch. Eventually, Patton let go and another voice tentatively asked, “May I?”  


Virgil looked up and noticed Roman with his arms outstretched, and was met with a hug milliseconds after nodding his consent. Roman came up in front of him, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around Virgil, fully encompassing his body in warmth. It had been so long since Virgil felt truly warm, and new sobs made their way out of him. It was just so nice to have people that truly cared for him and wanted him to get better.

After another two minutes of bliss, Roman gripped Virgil’s shoulders and they separated. Virgil looked at Logan, not surprised to see he had made no move to join.

“I apologize; I’m no good with hugs. I can partake in a ‘fist bump’ , however, if that will suffice.”

Virgil bit back a grin and held out his fist. Logan bumped it with his own, then both dropped their hands.

“We’ll get through this, kiddo. Things’ll work out.”

And for once, Virgil believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo finale of this fic! But it's not over yet—I have at least five more fic ideas for this AU. Stay tuned! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my writing tumblr [@guav-writes](https://guav-writes.tumblr.com/) or my main [@lil-lycanthropy](http://lil-lycanthropy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
